The Fugitives: The Tyrant Queen of Madagascar by R. M. Ballantyne (the giving tree read aloud .TXT) 📕

About this time the anger of Queen Ranavalona against the Christians was so great that she made herself quite ill, and more than once had to send for her Court Physician, Mark Breezy, to prescribe for her.

Our youthful medico understood her complaint, which was a simple one. He prescribed much exercise, change of air, and amusement, so as to distract her mind from the cares of State and the evil passions to which she was giving way. He hoped thus to serve the Christians indirectly, for he saw clearly that the mere mention of their existence made her ill. Some slight administrations of physic, also, coupled with judicious alterations of diet, put her Majesty in a state of such excellent health and spirits that she began to entertain quite a warm regard for her Court Physician, and congratulated herself not a little on the good fortune which had sent him to the capital.

Thus Mark was enabled to disperse, for a time, the dark cloud which had been lowering over the land—not, however, in time to prevent many Christians from being slain, and some even of the officers and ladies of the palace from being degraded, their honours taken from them, and themselves and children sold as slaves.

Among the ladies, Rafaravavy had a narrow escape. For a time her life seemed to hang by a hair, for she was rebellious as well as fearless, and would sing her favourite hymns in spite of orders to the contrary! Love prevailed, however, as in the case of Prince Rakota, and she was tolerated as a sort of spoilt child.

Being a favourite, Mark of course became a man of power in the capital. This fact would have raised him a host of enemies had it not been for the kindness of his disposition and the urbanity of his manners. When a strapping powerful young fellow treats every one with respectful deference, keeps in the background, and neither by word nor look asserts himself, but, on the contrary, seems to entertain kindly thoughts about every one, it argues such an absence of selfishness that most people are irresistibly attracted to him. Thus, unwittingly, he escaped jealousy and enmity in a palace where both were rife, and, holding in his hands as he did the power to alleviate many of the “ills that flesh is heir to,” he secured a good deal of warm friendship.

Being also an ingenious youth, he devised many little plans for amusing Ranavalona and preventing her mind from dwelling on dangerous memories. Among other things, he induced her to go in for a series of garden parties, and encouraged the people to practise their national games at these gatherings in a systematic way.

What all this was ultimately to lead to he did not know—indeed at first he had no particular end in view save the great one of preventing the Queen from ordering any more of the horrible scenes of bloodshed which he and his friends had so recently witnessed. But as time ran on his ideas became more definite and concentrated. It occurred to him that Ravonino would inevitably venture to attend the garden parties in the hope of again meeting Rafaravavy, and now that the Secretary had avowed himself on the side of the Christians, he felt that through him he might influence her to agree to her lover’s proposal.

Then his plan to effect the rescue of Mamba was gradually matured.

“Ebony,” he exclaimed, suddenly, one afternoon when sitting at his table preparing some villainous compound for the Queen, “go down to the laboratory, boy, and fetch me some gunpowder, sulphur, saltpetre, and charcoal.”

Mark’s laboratory, by the way, contained not only the medicines which chanced to be in the capital at that time, but also a vast collection of miscellaneous articles and substances which, in the opinion of palace officials, could be classed, however remotely, with “doctor’s stuffs.”

“Them stuffs,” remarked Hockins, who sat luxuriously in an arm-chair smoking a short pipe—for he had unfortunately obtained tobacco since arriving at the capital!—“Them stuffs are apt to cause surprisin’ effects w’en properly mixed.”

“Just so. That is my reason for sending for them. I shall create some surprising effects if my old cunning in pyrotechny has not forsaken me. When I was a school-boy, you must know, I was fond of dabbling in fireworks, and it strikes me that I could compound some things that would charm the Queen and astonish the natives.”

“Massa,” asked Ebony, powerful surprise expressed in his sable visage, while Mark spooned large quantities of the ingredients referred to into an earthenware dish, “is dem powders to be took inside arter bein’ well shooken, or rubbed outside?”

“Whichever way you please, Ebony. Would you like to try?”

“No thankee, massa.”

“Now, then, look here,” said Mark, making some pencil notes on a sheet of paper, after arranging several plates in a row. “You and Hockins set to work and mix these in the exact proportions set down on this paper. I’d do it myself, but I’m due at the palace, and you know the Queen does not like to be kept waiting. Stick to the paper, exactly, and here you have an egg-cup, a table-spoon, and a tea-spoon to measure with. Put your pipe out, I advise you, Hockins, before beginning. If Rainiharo should call, tell him he will find me with the Queen. I don’t like that Prime Minister. He’s a prime rascal, I think, and eggs the Queen on when she would probably let things drop. He’s always brooding and pondering, too, as if hatching mischief.”

“If that’s a sign of hatching mischief,” said Hockins, with a short laugh, “the same thing may be said of yourself, doctor, for you’ve done little but brood and ponder for more nor a week past.”

“True, I have been plotting; but many a man plots much without much resulting.”

Hurrying away, Mark found the Secretary waiting for him to act as interpreter, for the Queen understood little or no English.

After the preliminary ceremonial salutations, the young doctor asked if her Majesty would honour the gardens with her presence the following day, hold a grand reception, and make arrangements to remain in Anosy till after dark.

Yes, the Queen was quite ready to do so, but why did her Court Physician make such a proposal? Had he some new surprise in store for her?

“I have,” answered Mark. “In my country we make very grand displays with fire. But I have various little surprises and plots in store, which cannot be properly wrought out unless Ranavalona will consent to go to the gardens privately—that is to say, without public announcement, for that has much to do with the success of my scheme.”

“It shall be done, though it is against my custom,” said the Queen, with a good-natured nod, for she had begun to regard her young physician as an eccentric creature who needed and deserved encouragement in his amusing and harmless fancies.

Immediately after the audience, Mark and his sympathetic interpreter, the Secretary, obtained an interview with Rafaravavy. The doctor began abruptly.

“I am well acquainted with your lover, dear young lady.” At this she pouted a little, blushed terribly, and drew her pretty figure to its full height—which was not great! “And,” continued Mark, “I have been very deeply indebted to him.”

Rafaravavy relaxed a little, and fixed her fine dark eyes on the youth searchingly, but said nothing.

“Now I know,” Mark went on, pretending not to observe the maiden’s varying moods, “that my friend loves you so profoundly—so deeply—that he will risk his life to see you, and if he is caught, you are well aware that in the present state of the Queen’s mind the result would be his death—almost certainly, and perhaps you would die along with him. Therefore, if you get an opportunity soon you should agree to fly with him.”

During the first part of this speech the young girl’s face glowed with evident pleasure, but the last part was unfortunate. It did not suit the temper of one who was brave as she was beautiful.

“I know not, sir,” she said, with flashing eyes, while the little figure drew up again, “what English girls may think or do, but Malagasy women are not afraid to die with those whom they love. Your advice may be kindly meant, but I doubt if it is wise. Besides, I am a servant of my Queen, and owe allegiance to her.”

“Your Queen, mademoiselle, is a servant of the devil,” said Mark, whose indignation was severely stirred. “And, Rafaravavy, do you not profess to be a servant of the Christians’ God—the Almighty? Does not the Book state that it is impossible to serve two masters?”

“Come, come!” cried the Secretary, in a sharp tone, after translating this faithfully, “it is time to go. Follow me!”

Mark’s surprise at this abrupt termination of the interview was great, but as Rafaravavy retired hastily,